


beautiful with you

by mostlikelydefinentlymad



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 1940's, Fluff, I'm Bad At Titles, Kissing, M/M, No Angst, POV Bucky Barnes, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-War, Stucky - Freeform, heavy on the imagery in this one, pining Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 08:00:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8154977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlikelydefinentlymad/pseuds/mostlikelydefinentlymad
Summary: A mother and child pass by with silver balloons in hand and a bunch of sticky lollipops in the little girls hand. She stoops to collect an acorn and proudly beams at her mother before placing it in her pocket. Maybe this is love, he thinks. Maybe it really is that simple: take what you love and protect it.





	

Autumn leaves crunch under Bucky's boot as their brightly colored companions glide toward grass that is beginning to fade with the season.

He catches one in gloved hands and allows it a safe landing without the carelessness of others; without the weight of exhausted half dead bodies as they lug from one errand to another. They're tired of existing, he thinks. The fading brown leaf in his hand with its curled up corners contains more life than most of the people walking past and it's tragic. Everybody needs something or someone to keep them from hitting the ground.

 

Once, when he was seven, he'd skipped home with a stray dog at his heels. By the time he climbed the stairs to their apartment, his mother had been waiting. She'd sighed at the dog and given Bucky an impromptu speech about how living things are precariously fragile, they will not live forever. In turn and with a wisdom far beyond his years he'd said _"I'll love him until then."_

The first time Steve had fallen gravely ill, Sarah Rogers had given an eight year old Bucky a slice of blueberry pie and held his hand. She'd compared Steve's tiny body to that of a sparrow. _They're beautiful creatures and are stronger than they look but even the bravest sparrows are vulnerable. Their wings fail them at times, these things happen. Steve is a very smart boy but he is also incredibly breakable, much like a sparrow. He will get sick and sometimes those wings won't be able to help, he'll need a proper doctor and possibly hospitalization. Do you understand? It's fine to feel frightened but please know that he's in good hands and he'll survive. I've always taught him to get back up, don't let anything hold you down and he hasn't._

He'd nodded with teary eyes and thought, _I'll love him until the end of the line, I'll love him until then._

He has yet to hit the ground.

 

He bends and scoops up a pile of pinecones. Their hard exterior proudly displays layers separated by thin slices of space. Not one layer touches the other and there is always room to breathe. They remind him of Steve in a way; barbed wire on the outside with room to hold another heart on the inside. He places two in his pocket. Couples pass with hands intertwined as he strolls through the tiny park and he has to resist the urge to stop them and demand to know what makes their love more special than what he feels for Steve. How can they touch without breaking and in public no less? He wants a love that doesn't shutter closed when they step out the door. He wants to know that if he were falling, Steve would be there to catch him even if the whole world was watching.

 

A mother and child pass by with silver balloons in hand and a bunch of sticky lollipops in the little girls hand. She stoops to collect an acorn and proudly beams at her mother before placing it in her pocket. Maybe this is love, he thinks. Maybe it really is that simple: take what you love and protect it. Everything else is background noise. But humans, like trees, splinter when love hits like a lightning bolt with too much voltage and it almost always leaves a scar. Protecting Steve means thousands of tiny paper cuts underneath the skin and the act of carefully approaching them but Bucky is merely bent, not split down the middle. He'll take his chances.

Near the center of the park, adjacent to the empty benches stands a deep fried doughnut cart ran by an older man with snow white hair. He smiles as Bucky approaches and refills miniature paper cups of coffee for purchasing.

"I'll take half a dozen glazed, please," Bucky says.

The man drops them into small paper wrappers and passively hints about who he thinks they're for; Bucky's sweetheart.

"She's gonna love these," he says.

"Pardon?"

He speaks with a thick Irish accent and cheerfully tosses in two more doughnuts, free of charge. "Your little lady."

For a moment, Bucky is blindsided. He'd love to tell the vendor about how Steve eats these every time they have spare change, how he savors them slowly over a two day period. Instead, he snaps his mouth closed and pastes on a friendly smile. "She sure will."

With the bag in hand and the smell of delicious freshly baked goods in the air, he continues his walk. Yes, Steve will be delighted.

 

Children happily squeal as they chase one another nearby and it reminds him of how innocent their friendship had started out. Over the years, it has blossomed into something even he couldn't have predicted and he wouldn't change a thing. He checks his wristwatch, less than five minutes until Steve returns from art class. With doughnuts in hand, pinecones in his pocket and the anticipation of surprising Steve, he practically skips home.

 

When he returns, Steve is already stretched out flat on the sofa with a book in hand.

The bag crinkles in Bucky's hand but fails to capture Steve's attention.

"You hungry?"

Steve flips a page in his book without looking up. "I had a cheese sandwich half an hour ago."

"I don't believe you," Bucky goads. This breaks the spell. Steve's eyes catch on the brown paper sack and he turns those blue eyes on Bucky, surprised.

"That's not our rent money is it? 'Cause Ms. Henderson said we're about two months behind."

"Paid it last week while you were at the market. Want some?"

Relieved, Steve beams at him then takes the whole bag and plops back down onto the sofa. Bucky thinks of the leaves tumbling down without a sound and how only the tree notices their presence. He is a continuous cycle of falling, falling, falling - everyday is a new depth. Loving Steve Rogers means breaking away from those branches and into love like it's the first time every time.

He nudges Steve over and throws an arm around his shoulders. This sparrow is stronger than the rest and stands out in a crowd. His bones are not made of glass but Bucky loves him like the Autumn breeze loves painting everything in shades of yellows and red; a slow descent into something magical.

"Want one?," Steve offers. He holds the baked treat between two fingers and Bucky licks a strip of glaze along the side before he realizes Steve's staring at him with wide stormy eyes. He does it once more for good measure and Steve's lip catches on his teeth. He promptly drops the food and leans forward to tongue the sticky glaze on Bucky's lips. Bucky immediately cups the back of his head and holds him there as their lips slide together again and again. They've kissed before but never consistently and rarely making it past the nearly non-existent brush of lips.

Bucky breaks the kiss for a breather and Steve smiles as he presses a kiss on his cheek.

"You remind me of the park in Autumn," Bucky murmurs.

Steve stares back, confused. "How?"

Apparently Bucky is more of a sap than he ever realized because he begins to wax poetic about the ever changing leaves, trees that still stand after one hundred years of people passing them by, about learning how to fall and how to catch without burning the whole forest down. Steve listens patiently and when there's a lapse in conversation, he pulls Bucky toward the bedroom with promises of a safe place to land.


End file.
